


Blood & Bones

by romeokijai



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort Porn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief, Loss, Multi, Sadness, Sequel to 'Tis Better to Have Loved, Uncle/Niece Incest, post tv series, the comics are a giant steaming pile of shit and i refuse to acknowledge them in any of my fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-29 23:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17817848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romeokijai/pseuds/romeokijai
Summary: When Bass's death leaves Charlie heartbroken and paralyzed by grief, it's up to Miles to put her back together.(This is a sequel to my one-shot, 'Tis Better to Have Loved.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by ['Tis Better to Have Loved](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5719189) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> I keep telling myself that I'm done writing fanfic, but these characters don't seem to want to quit. :) I ended up with an unusual amount of free time on my hands this past week, and evidently, this fic needed to be written. A big, big, big thank you to Hayj for all her help and encouragement and general enthusiasm while I was writing this. I love my fandom bestie! <3

_I wish I was the sunshine_

_All around you all the time_

_So I could stop the shadows_

_From falling across your mind_

_But I'm only blood and bones_

_Blood and bones_

\-- Bob Schneider, Blood and Bones

 

* * *

 

Miles Matheson exhales a long, tired breath as he brings his horse to a stop and peers out at the uninviting, gray beach before him.

 

He is exhausted. And hungry. And covered in road dust that’s been collecting on his skin and clothes for the past twelve days. Every muscle in his body aches, his fifty-four year old frame angrily reminding him with each movement that he’s way too old for these kinds of trips. (There’s a reason he accepted the desk job that President Blanchard offered him shortly after the war ended.)

 

But for every ounce of physical discomfort that he currently feels, there’s a much worse emotional pain steadily brewing inside of him. A soul-crushing torment that’s been with him for weeks, traveling with him from Central Oregon to his final destination: this tiny fishing village that once was known as Westport, Washington.

 

He dismounts his horse with a hiss and slowly walks the gentle beast along the rocky shoreline toward the house just ahead. When he reaches the house, he finds that all the windows are dark, blinds and drapes pulled shut, and there’s almost no sign that anyone lives here except for the smoke that’s gently billowing from the chimney. With each step forward, his stomach churns with a deep sense of foreboding.

 

After tying his horse to the small picket fence that he and Bass built together a few years ago, Miles grabs his pack and tries to brace himself for the onslaught of pain he knows he’s about to face.

 

He slowly, almost hesitantly, ascends the porch steps, the weather-beaten wood creaking and moaning beneath his heavy combat boots.

 

His heart climbs into his throat as he knocks on the door.

 

Seconds that feel more like centuries crawl by. The door remains closed.

 

He knocks again. Harder this time. “Charlie! Open up, kid. It’s Miles.”

 

Nothing.

 

A frustrated growl leaves his lips, and he contemplates his next move, a part of him wondering if breaking the door down is his best option at this point. But just as he’s considering that, he finally hears it: the faint sound of footsteps slowly moving from somewhere in the house toward the front door.

 

Miles holds his breath and watches as the doorknob slowly turns.

 

There is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- in the entire fucking world that could have prepared him for the paralyzing pain that slams into him when the door finally opens.

 

“Hey, kid,” he barely chokes out, his throat threatening to close up as he takes in the sight before him.

 

He’s seen this girl go through hell before. On multiple occasions.

 

He witnessed several instances where Charlie completely fell apart as debilitating grief wrapped its long, bony fingers around her and threatened never to let go: when she lost Maggie; then when she lost Danny; then again when she killed and lost Jason.

 

Each time, she grieved like never before, every of those losses bringing out an intense suffering in her.

 

But this.

 

There are no words to describe what this is.

 

Charlie struggles to meet his eyes, but when she finally does, her gaze is vacant, red-rimmed eyes that once were full of bright blue fire now a dull, haunted gray. Her hair is unkempt and her skin is paler than Miles has ever seen it, and she’s skinny -- so, so skinny. Her face and body are visibly thinner, to the point where she looks borderline malnourished -- and so much older than her actual age of thirty one.

 

Miles doesn’t miss the fact that she’s wearing one of Bass’s old button down shirts over a pair of joggers. But with the amount of weight she’s lost, she’s practically swimming in those clothes.   

 

Something protective ignites inside of him, and he haphazardly drops his pack, not bothering to close the door behind him either, before he yanks the girl into his arms.

 

She crumbles as soon as his arms surround her, deep, guttural sobs spilling out of her as she clings to him.

 

Tears spill down his own cheeks as he holds her, a hand coming up to the back of her head as he gently presses her face against his chest.  

 

It feels like a lifetime before she finally speaks, but when she does, it’s the weakest, most fragile she has ever sounded. “He’s gone, Miles.”

 

And in that moment, as he sinks to the floor with Charlie still in his arms, Miles feels his own heart shatter. Harder than it ever has before.

 

***

 

“I know, baby girl,” Miles chokes on his own words as he continues to hold his niece, his hand gently trailing up and down her spine.

 

She’s in his lap now, right there on the cold, hard floor of the front entryway. At some point, he did manage to get up and close the front door, but it was right back to the floor after that. She immediately clambered into his lap like a small, frightened child, her arms wrapping around his neck as she buried her face against his throat.

 

Her violent sobbing has mostly subsided, but now she won’t stop shivering as tears continue to stream down her face.

 

Miles pulls her closer and kisses the top of her head, internally cursing whatever cruel God is out there that has allowed the death of Sebastian Monroe to wreak this kind of havoc on the broken girl in his arms.

 

And isn’t that just fucking ironic, he thinks bitterly.

 

There was a time when this very woman wanted nothing more than for Bass to die. She even made a few honest-to-God attempts on his life.

 

Never in a million years would Miles have imagined that Bass and Charlie’s lives would one day intertwine in the way they ultimately did, and that one day, he would be left to pick up the broken pieces that Bass left behind.

 

“Charlie, you’re gonna get through this. K? You’re one of the strongest people I know, and if anyone can survive this, it’s you.”

 

She swallows hard but doesn’t say a word.

 

Miles presses another kiss to the top of her head. “But I know it hurts like hell right now. And that’s okay. You feel whatever you need to feel, kid. For as long as you need. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

 

It’s a long time before she finally lifts her head from the crook from his neck and looks up at him.

 

“There’s my girl,” he says, offering her a sad smile as he pushes a few stray hairs away from her face.

 

Fresh tears pool in her eyes as she breathes back another sob, but then she sighs, and there’s something about it that suddenly makes Miles think that she’s going to be okay.

 

He doesn’t know how or when, but she’ll get through this.

 

He finds himself sighing as well, relief filling his lungs for the first time in weeks, as he swipes the pad of his thumb under each of her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to the few of you who took the time to leave kudos/comments. It's so hard to know if what I'm doing is working when there is such little feedback. :-/ But hopefully this story is working for you guys and doesn't completely suck. The last chapter is written and ready to go, but I'd love to hear what you think of Chapter 2 before I post it. :-) Thanks for reading!!

They work in companionable silence for a while to tidy up the house. Once they’re done with that, Miles goes upstairs and quickly gets himself cleaned up, then heats up a few bucketfuls of water on the wood stove and fills up the tub for Charlie, insisting that she take a good, long soak while he works on dinner.

 

She doesn’t seem thrilled about the idea, but she does as she’s asked without protest.

 

When Miles returns to the kitchen, he is pleasantly surprised to find that she has no shortage of food in the house: fresh eggs, bread, milk, some fruits and vegetables, and some venison steaks that her next door neighbors evidently gifted to her after they learned about Bass’s passing. She even has coffee and tea -- or at least what passes for coffee and tea these days.

 

Miles has just finished plating up some pan-grilled venison along with some potatoes and grilled carrots when Charlie wanders back down to the kitchen. Her hair is stringy and wet but brushed, and she’s dressed in sweats and an old plaid shirt that no doubt once belonged to Bass.

 

“Made us some dinner,” Miles says as he sets two plates down on the kitchen table.

 

Charlie vacantly stares at each plate and then at her uncle before dropping her gaze to the floor. “I’m...not really hungry.”

 

Miles watches with a frown as she reaches into the cabinet by the sink and pulls out a bottle of whiskey.

 

“Charlie….”

 

She ignores him and doesn’t bother getting a glass. Just unscrews the cap and takes a long, generous swallow right from the bottle. She cringes as the alcohol burns her throat, then goes back for another drink.

 

A protective anger lights inside his chest, and before she can take another sip, he stalks toward her and snatches the bottle away. “Nuh huh. We’re not doing this.”

 

The look she gives him is a mixture of rage and shock. She tries to take the bottle back, but he holds it out of her reach.

 

He watches as she grits her teeth.

 

“Give it back,” she demands, the strongest her voice has sounded since his arrival.

 

“Nope.”

 

“I’m not asking! Give it back, Miles.”

 

He shakes his head and points to the table.

 

“I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

 

“That’s fine. But you’re still not getting this back.”

 

“Why the hell not?!”

 

“Because! I’m not gonna sit here and watch you drink yourself to death!”

 

“Well, if I wanna drink myself to death, that’s my fucking choice! Not yours!” Tears fill her eyes as she lunges at him.

 

She’s quite a bit rusty and much weaker than she used to be, but Miles learns quickly that she hasn’t completely forgotten the hand-to-hand combat skills he taught her a lifetime ago.

 

But he’s still taller and stronger than she is, and even though he’s not necessarily fighting back, it’s only after some amount of struggle that she finally rips the bottle out of his hands.

 

In a previous life, she probably would have laughed in his face and reveled in her tiny victory; made some smartass quip about being able to wrestle the whiskey away from Big, Bad General Matheson.  

 

But that girl is gone.

 

God, what he wouldn’t give to get her back. To hear her laughter and see that playful sparkle in her eyes again.

 

“Damn it, Charlie. Come on! This isn’t you.”

 

She glares at him again, then marches past him without another word, her hand still fisted around the bottle.

 

Miles watches in heartbroken defeat as she pulls on some rubber boots, then yanks the back door open, letting a blast of cold February air into the kitchen. He can feel his blood pressure rising, but he doesn’t try to stop her as she storms outside, slamming the door behind her.

 

As soon as she’s in the backyard, she screams out in frustration. He watches from the kitchen window as she throws the bottle against a large tree, where it shatters into a million tiny pieces.

 

Then she drops to her knees and begins to weep.

  


***

  


Miles considers going out there and dragging her back inside. But he ultimately decides against it. As much as it hurts to watch her go through what she’s going through, he knows this is all part of her grieving experience, and there’s very little he can do to change or even expedite the process. It’s the worst feeling in the world, this sense of complete helplessness. For years, he’s been the one Charlie has constantly turned to to fix whatever was broken in her life. He’d do anything right now to fix this.

 

But he knows he’s just going to have to wait this one out.

 

Plus, if there’s one thing he knows about Charlie, it’s that she won’t listen to him anyway. He’s never been able to tell her what to do. No one has. Not even Bass. And while her spirit might be crushed right now, her Matheson stubbornness is still fully in tact.

 

So Miles just waits at the window, keeping a close eye on her as she cries and paces the backyard for a while until she finally wears herself out.  

 

He doesn’t say a word when she comes back in. Just continues to watch as she slips off her boots and trudges over to the table, where her dinner is still waiting for her.

 

After several seconds, he quietly settles into the chair next to her and picks up his own fork.

 

She pokes at her food for a while, mostly just rearranging the items on her plate, and only occasionally taking a bite. After several minutes of that, she pushes her plate away and just stares blankly at nothing in particular.

 

The thick silence that hangs in the room is killing Miles, but he knows he can’t make her talk until she’s ready. At least not about anything important.

 

“I dunno about you, kid, but I could go for a nice, hot cup of coffee,” he eventually says in a pathetic attempt to cut through some of the tension. “You want some? Or I can make you a cup of tea?”

 

Her eyes flit over to him and she blinks at him several times, as if she’s trying to comprehend what he just said.

 

Then she frowns at him. “Does my mom still hate the idea of me and Bass so much that she couldn’t come with you to see me?”

 

Miles’s heart falls.

 

He tightens his brow and licks his lips as he tries to find the words to answer her torpedo of a question. He knew this was coming. He just didn’t expect it to come now.

 

He spent nearly two weeks on the road rehearsing a speech in his head, but now that he’s actually here, he can’t deliver it.

 

Because how the fuck do you tell her that yes, Rachel is still cold and heartless when it comes to Bass, and that even now, two months after his death, she still isn’t willing to accept that her daughter found true love and happiness with him? How do you tell this completely broken girl that her mother can’t get past her own demons and complicated history with Bass long enough to see how much pain Charlie is in?

 

Miles can still picture the hollow and emotionless look on Rachel’s face after she read the letter from President Blanchard, informing them of Bass’s death. Two weeks had already passed since the incident occurred by the time Miles and Rachel got the news at their home in Central Oregon. It took almost two more weeks for Miles to claw his way out of his own drunken stupor and grief. Which meant Charlie was up in Westport, devastated and completely alone that entire time.          

 

What came next were a series of fights between Miles and Rachel after he demanded that they pack up their shit and make the trek to Washington to either get the girl and bring her home or move up north so they could at least be closer to her. Rachel’s response? She told Miles that if Charlie really needed them, she would come to them; that she wasn’t about to uproot her own life and make the trek north to get her daughter after Charlie had very clearly chosen Bass over her own mother.

 

That’s when Miles had announced that he was done. This game that he’d been playing off and on with Rachel for more than thirty years was finally over. This time, for good.

 

“Charlie….”

 

“Just tell me, Miles,” she says, as if she’s just read his thoughts. She’s trying her hardest to sound brave, but even as she utters the words, there are fresh tears in her eyes.

 

Miles feels a headache coming on. And for a second, he contemplates lying to her. Spewing out some bullshit about giving Rachel time; that maybe she’ll come around at some point. But as he looks across the table at this girl that he’s come to love more than anyone else in the world, he realizes he doesn’t have the heart to do it. Not anymore. If he were talking to anybody else, maybe. But Charlie? He can’t lie to her.

 

“I broke it off with her,” he finally admits.

 

She looks at him like he’s just sprouted a second head. “What?”

 

“Yeah. I couldn’t do it anymore.”

 

“But you guys….” Her words trail off, and she just sits there, staring at him, confused.

 

“Look, your mother is….”

 

Several long seconds pass before Charlie finally finishes his thought for him. “Selfish?”

 

“I was gonna say complicated. But yeah. Truth is, some of it’s probably warranted. What happened to her in Philly...what Bass and I did to her.... That was some fucked up shit. And it’ll probably haunt Rachel for the rest of her life.” He slumps back in his chair and tiredly rubs a hand over his face. “I think the war kept her distracted. So for a while there, she wasn’t thinking about anything else. But when it ended and you and Bass took off together, she just...couldn’t come to terms with it. Hell, I don’t even think I could. At least not at first.”

 

“Yeah, but you did come around. And my mom seemed perfectly willing to forgive you before she hopped in bed with you. Even after all the messed up shit that happened between you guys. But you’re telling me she couldn’t put her own feelings and problems aside for me?”

 

Before Miles can answer, Charlie drops her gaze to her lap and shakes her head, as if to answer her own question.

 

“I don’t know why I keep hoping that someday, somehow...things will be different with her. But this is the same woman who abandoned me when I was twelve. It shouldn’t surprise me that she’d do it again now.”

 

Miles scoots his chair closer and grabs her face with both hands, cradling her tear-soaked cheeks in his palms. “Charlie, look at me.”

 

She looks at him as the tears continue to fall.

 

He doesn’t let her look away. “Your mom may not be here, but I am. Okay? And I meant what I said earlier. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. We’re gonna get through this. Together.”

 

He sucks in a breath and holds it, waiting for her to spit out some bitter statement about how everybody always leaves her; and how it’s just a matter of time before he will, too.

 

But then he watches in relieved amazement as her face suddenly softens.

 

“Miles,” she whispers, her eyes flitting down to his lips.

 

When her eyes trail back up to his, there’s a certain gleam in them. A shred of hope, perhaps. But more than that, a hint of hunger.

 

At some point, he must have gravitated even closer to her because their faces are now just inches apart. So close that Miles can feel her warm, shallow breath on his lips.

 

“Charlie,” he rasps out.

 

Somewhere, in some distant part of his brain, there’s an alarm bell going off, warning him to pull back.

 

But his body is already doing something else.

 

Because before he can stop himself and properly assess what’s happening, he’s already leaning in and pressing his lips to hers.

 

She doesn’t try to stop him. Not even for a second. She just sighs in relief and places her hands on the sides of his neck before pulling him close and angling her mouth under his -- as if she’s been waiting for this moment for a lifetime.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, ya'll. Have some porn. Also, if you're one of those folks who doesn't feel comfortable leaving a review or non-anonymous kudos on the fic because, ya know, incest and all that, you can come squee at me privately on Tumblr messenger: romeokijai.tumblr.com or on Twitter DM: @romeoluvzrevo.

They eventually make their way upstairs.

 

When Charlie leads him into the guest room instead of her own bedroom, Miles tilts his head and looks at her in silent question.

 

She lights the oil lamp that sits on the nightstand, then turns back to him. A pink flush colors her cheeks when she notices the expression on his face. “I can’t...I mean, I’m...I’m not ready--”   

 

The realization quickly hits him, and he nods, instantly feeling like an idiot.

 

That was her sacred space with Bass. Of course she’s not ready to bring another man into that bed.

 

“It’s okay, kid,” he says. “I get it.”

 

She breathes out a relieved sigh and walks over to him, then pulls him down for a kiss.

 

As he works his tongue into her mouth, Miles tries to convince himself that this is just their shared grief manifesting itself in some bizarre, Matheson way; that this _isn’t_ him just giving in to the perverse longing he’s had for this girl ever since she walked into his bar in Chicago, over a decade ago.

 

But the truth is, it’s probably some twisted combination of both.

 

He spent years doing absolutely whatever was necessary to keep himself from crossing this line with Charlie. That included going back to Rachel and playing house with her; or keeping his jealous fury to himself whenever Charlie spent time with any other man -- Bass included.     

 

When Charlie finally decided to settle down with Bass, Miles told himself it was all for the best. His own black soul deserved someone like Rachel; not someone pure and bright and good like Charlie. And after a while, he was even willing to acknowledge that she and Bass were good together. Really good, in fact. Far better than he and Bass had ever been. What Miles had broken in Bass, Charlie had found a way to fix.

 

Once he made peace with that, it became relatively easy to bury his own feelings for his niece and step out of the way so that Bass could give her what she needed. And that is exactly what Bass did.

 

Until fate did the most heinous thing imaginable and took him away from her.

 

_Everybody leaves me...._

 

Those words are still branded into Miles’s memory, and he still vividly remembers the way his heart had broken when Charlie had fallen apart in his arms after Maggie’s death.

 

And Maggie’s death was only one in a long line of losses.

 

He’ll never understand why life has been so unfathomably cruel to her. It’s been cruel to them all, yes. But it’s always Charlie who seems to get the worst end of every deal.

 

So yeah. Maybe this is some fucked up brand of Matheson grief processing. Or maybe it’s just his own depravity finally getting the best of him. Whatever the goddamn case, this girl deserves some respite. And if this is the thing that’s going to help her get it, Miles is willing to go there. To finally put aside whatever self-loathing bullshit he’s used in the past to convince himself, and her, that they couldn’t have this.

 

“Miles,” Charlie pants, finally pulling away from his mouth to gulp down air.

 

His own breathing is just as labored as he stares down into her eyes. “What is it, baby girl?”

 

All of a sudden, there’s a look of uncertainty on her face. And if Miles didn’t know any better, a shadow of guilt as well. He watches as she turns her gaze away from him.

 

“What’s wrong, Charlie?” Miles sits down on the bed, then gently pulls her down to sit beside him. Softly grasping her chin, he makes her look at him.

 

She looks tortured as she stares back at him, the gears in her head clearly turning as she tries to formulate her words.

 

Miles cups her cheek. “You know you can tell me anything.”

 

“I just...we’re not...betraying him, are we? By doing this?”

 

Fuck. This girl just keeps breaking his heart. Over and over again.

 

“Listen, we don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to do, okay? We’ll take this as slow as you want. And if you change your mind and decide this isn’t what you want, that’s okay, too.”

 

She nods, but there’s still a cloud of doubt hanging over her features.

 

“But, to answer your question...no. We’re not betraying him. And I’m not just saying that. I knew him longer than anyone, and I know for a fact that all he ever wanted was for you to be happy. Wherever you found that happiness. Which is the same thing I’ve always wanted for you.”

 

She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, as if she’s allowing herself to be baptized in his words. When she opens her eyes again, it’s clear that she’s made up her mind about what she wants.

 

Still, Miles knows he needs to say it. More importantly, he knows she needs to hear him say it. “Bass loved you, Charlie. And so do I.”

 

She slowly straddles his thighs and drops herself into his lap, interlacing her fingers at the nape of his neck. “I love you, too, Miles. And...I do want this.”

 

He rests his hands on the small of her back. “Only if you’re sure.”

 

“I’m sure,” she says, leaning in to kiss him.

 

He welcomes her mouth with his own, gently slanting his face as he licks at the seam of her lips. She opens for him immediately, allowing his tongue to enter her mouth, letting him taste and explore while she does the same.

 

When the need for air becomes too great, she sits back on his lap and starts to undo the buttons on her shirt.

 

He watches her every move and feels the blood as it rushes straight to his cock. With the way she’s sitting, her legs tangled around his waist, he is sure she can feel him hardening beneath her, their clothes creating an unwelcomed barrier between them.

 

“Let me,” he finally says, moving her hands out of the way to finish the task she started.

 

Her eyes are dark and hooded by the time he eases the shirt off of her shoulders.

 

Miles drags his hungry gaze up and down her torso. She’s definitely tinier now than she once was and her muscles are less defined underneath her pale skin. But she is still beautiful. He makes sure she knows that when he places a kiss in the center of her chest before reaching around to unclasp her bra.

 

She moans and arches toward him as he rubs his stubbled cheeks against her soft, warm flesh.

 

Her nipples are already stiff, he discovers, when he pulls her bra away. So he wastes no time, taking one hard, pink tip into his starving mouth. He gently sucks on it while his fingers play with her other breast.

 

“Oh, Miles…” she whispers, shuddering beautifully in response to his touch.

 

After a while, he switches to the other side, licking and sucking her other nipple while she quietly mewls in pleasure. Then he slowly lays her down on the bed and sits up to yank off his own shirt.

 

She leans up on her elbows and watches him. Biting on her bottom lip while she drinks him in, her eyes get bluer by the second as they travel down the length of his long, lean torso, her gaze alone sending shivers down his spine. When she reaches out to touch him, her fingers are warm and pleasant against his hair-covered chest, her soft touch instantly igniting a needy fire in his balls.

 

He lies down next to her and pushes her hair away from her face, then leans in to kiss her.

 

As they continue to kiss each other, Charlie reaches between them to stroke his crotch.

 

Miles groans into her mouth and kisses her more fiercely, devouring her mouth with his, as he jerks his hips toward her.

 

She takes it as her cue to unzip his jeans, her deft fingers greedily reaching inside his pants and underwear till she finds bare flesh.

 

“Shit, Charlie,” he rasps against her mouth as her slender fingers come in contact with his cock.

 

He’s imagined this scenario more times than he can count and definitely more times than he would ever be willing to admit, but the actual feel of her hand on him is so much better than even his most vividly imagined fantasy.

 

They quickly shed the rest of their clothing, pants and socks and panties and boxer briefs messily piling up on the floor. And then it’s just warm skin against warm skin, several soft sighs, and two wildly beating hearts.

 

“Touch me, Miles,” Charlie begs, grabbing his hand and placing it between her legs while she continues to work her other hand up and down his length.

 

He lets out a low, hungry growl when he touches her and discovers just how wet and pliant she already is. His cock throbs under her fingers.  

 

He’s still sliding his fingers between her sticky folds, caressing her clit with his thumb while she squirms and pants, when the need to taste her suddenly overwhelms him. Kissing and biting his way down her body, he parts her thighs and settles down between them, then licks his lips in delicious anticipation.

 

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, ghosting his lips over her damp curls while he breathes in her divine scent. “Just like I always knew you would be.”

 

A lusty whimper leaves her lips when he lowers his mouth to her sex. The sound is like music to his ears, sending a symphonic jolt of pleasure straight to his cock.

 

He tries a few different techniques on her: quick flicks of his tongue; dipping his tongue in and out of her pussy in steady, rhythmic stabs; and long, luxurious licks along the entire length of her slit. But it doesn’t take long for him to discover that what she really loves is having her clit sucked.   

 

( _Of course,_ he eventually remembers. That was one of Bass’s specialties.)

 

“Miles,” she whines, staring down at his face between her legs as she cants her hips and buries her fingers in his hair.

 

It’s a warning. She’s letting him know she’s close.

 

He stares up at her while he continues to feast, his eyes locking with hers, and suddenly he sees it; sees _her_ again -- the Charlie that she used to be before the world fucking broke her.

 

She’s still there. And Miles will do absolutely anything necessary to make sure that part of her never disappears again.

 

He growls against her delicate sex, and she quivers exquisitely, her whole body twitching with need. Then he slides two fingers into her pussy and pumps in and out in quick, repetitive strokes. He uses the weight of his other arm to keep her pinned in place, then pushes back the hood of her clit and sucks more aggressively on her exposed bundle of nerves.

 

Just a few seconds of that combination, and Charlie erupts, a string of curses and her uncle’s name flying from her mouth as a powerful shudder rocks her entire body. Her potent juices flood Miles’s mouth, and he greedily laps up every delicious drop while she melts into the mattress, her chest heaving in spent satisfaction.

 

By the time he kisses his way back up to her mouth, every inch of her is delightfully flushed, and his dick is so hard it practically hurts.

 

“Need to fuck you now,” he tells her, barely giving her more than a moment to recover from her orgasm.  

 

He presses his forehead to hers and reaches down between them, taking himself in hand. He rubs the swollen head of his cock against her still-sensitive pussy and closes his eyes, relishing the feel of her wet warmth and the beautiful sound of her ragged breathing.

 

She lets him know that she’s ready, then licks the corner of his mouth, savoring the lingering taste of herself on his face.

 

Miles playfully bites her bottom lip before he slides his cock into her drenched depths.

 

“Miles!” Her breath catches as she clings to him.

 

“Fuck, Charlie,” he groans as he pushes all the way in and bottoms out inside of her. She is ridiculously wet and tight and everything he ever hoped or imagined she would be.

 

And as their bodies dance together in this perfectly intimate way, beads of sweat breaking out on their skin, he realizes that this isn’t just about Charlie’s healing.

 

He realizes just how much he needs this, too.

 

She’s healing him. One stroke at a time. Filling up the void that Bass left in him. Waking up a part of him that’s been dead for way too long.

 

Because that’s what this girl does. You give her something broken, and she fixes it. Even when that broken thing is him; and even when she’s half broken herself.

 

“Harder, Miles,” Charlie gasps as she digs her fingernails into his back.

 

He exhales sharply and picks up the pace, thrusting harder, then watching in wonder as her eyes slam shut in pleasure. Lowering his face to her throat, he kisses and laves her skin, sucking bruises into the long column of her neck.

 

Eventually, he rolls them over so she’s on top, one leg hitched around his hip, her breasts smashed against his chest, and her face buried in the crook of his neck. He continues to piston in and out of her while he drags a hand up and down her spine, sometimes trailing down to grab at the soft globes of her ass, and then back up to tangle at the nape of her neck.

 

She rocks her hips back and forth in a way that creates friction against her clit and sighs into his neck. “So close.”

 

Miles grunts in understanding and increases his speed.

 

Feeling his balls tighten, he knows he’s about to come. “Charlie,” he cautions, gently squeezing her ass cheeks.

 

She lifts her head from the crook of his neck and looks at him, blue eyes filled with determination and darkened by lust. “Do it. Please.”

 

Miles searches her face. “You sure?”

 

She nods. “I need this.”

 

Something dark and carnal flares inside his belly then, and he decides he can’t deny her this. Nor can he deny himself.

 

Pushing her up into a sitting position, he continues to drive into her in deep, desperate thrusts while she grabs her breasts. Then he reaches between them and runs his thumb over her clit in steady little circles.

 

The pressure and friction are exactly what she needs, and her next orgasm hits her hard, in tandem with his. She arches her back and goes stiff, and he immediately feels her powerful contractions around his pulsating cock. Her pussy walls clamp down on him as he pumps her full of his cum.

 

She’s a sweaty, trembling mess by the time she collapses on top of him, her chest rising and falling against his, as they both pant for breath.

 

As their bodies cool, Miles slips out of her and wraps his arms around her while she snuggles close and rests her head near his chin.

 

He can’t help but smile as he presses his lips to her forehead, feeling as if a certain weight has finally been lifted off of him.

 

Wondering if Charlie feels the same way, he glances down with the intention of asking her -- only to discover that she’s already asleep, snoring softly against his shoulder.  

 

***

 

Early the next morning, before the sun is even up, Miles quietly untangles himself from Charlie’s sleeping form and gets out of bed. He pulls the covers back up around her, being careful not to wake her, then grabs his clothes off the floor and pads over to the bathroom across the hall.

 

A little while later, he finds himself lost in his thoughts as he stands in the front yard with a mug of coffee in his hand, staring out at the ocean. Everything is quiet, and the sun is just beginning to rise, painting the sky with streaks of pastel pink and orange.

 

When he hears the front door open and close behind him, he turns to see Charlie, dressed in black pants, rubber boots, and one of Bass’s old sweaters, making her way down the stairs.

 

As soon as she reaches him, he gives her a soft smile and pulls her to stand in front of him.

 

Taking the mug from his hands, she takes a sip, then leans back against him as they stand together in silence and watch the churching sea.

 

Miles places one hand on her shoulder and the other one on her hip. “Feeling better?”

 

She nods slowly. “I think so.”

 

But when she brushes her cheek against the hand that’s on her shoulder, he immediately feels her tears.

 

“You’re crying again.” He frowns, pulling her closer.

 

“Yeah, but...I feel…. For the first time in months, I actually feel like...things might turn out okay. Thanks to you.” She leans her head back against his jawline.

 

He kisses the side of her head, and they fall into a comfortable silence for a while.

 

“You know, you fixed him, Charlie,” he eventually says, gently squeezing her shoulder. “He was so broken. For a long time. Between life dealing him a bad hand...and fighting in all those wars...and me.... But you...you figured out how to put him back together. Just like you did with me. So, really, I should be thanking you.”

 

She gently presses her lips against his hand, and when she speaks again, her tone actually resembles something akin to hope. “Maybe this time, we can both fix each other.”

 

“We can do that,” Miles murmurs next to her ear, his thumb stroking her stomach.

 

Then he turns her around, takes her hand in his, and pulls her back toward the house.

 

~ THE END ~

**Author's Note:**

> I know Marlie isn't for everyone, but if you're reading, holler at me and let me know what you think. I'd love to hear from you!


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